Fantasy, Courtesy
by Koakuma Tsuri
Summary: 70/100: Gift. Genesis didn't buy a present for Sephiroth on the General's birthday. Sephiroth/Genesis. Yaoi. Smut. Lemon.


Meet the product of too much grape juice and cookies and a day of shopping with xlightfromabovex. She wanted this, and sat and ate all the cookies whilst I did all the writing TT____TT. Here you go then, PWP.

Cool people might recognise the title from Britney Spears' Lace and Leather from the album Circus, which is awesome and I won't let you think otherwise. It's also slutty Genesis' theme song. Om nom nom.

Disclaimer - Characters are not mine.

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**Gift**  
Fantasy, Courtesy  
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"A3."

"Miss. C7."

"Damn it, Seph, you sunk my battleship!" Angeal's face spread into a self-depreciating grin as he plucked a red pin out from the tray besides the large grey plastic partitioned grid and settled it into a small hole in the centre of a black cylindrical figure of a boat.

Green eyes stared over the dividing wall between them, a little hazed from the drink that surrounded them, but still holding that content, calculating smugness that the general was so well known for. He made a single sound, just a grunt for his victory, and turned his head back down to his grid. "E2."

"Gu-ys," came an insistent whine from the general direction of the kitchen. And then Genesis appeared, sauntering towards them with a little less grace than usual, and an already half-emptied green bottle of Banora cider in one hand, another unopened clutched at his elbow. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he blinked more often than usual, as if trying to refocus his gaze. "When are you going to be finished with this silly game?"

Closing the final feet's distance, Genesis slipped his free arm around Sephiroth's neck, toying with the collar of his shirt. The other continually returned the bottle to his lips.

"I ask myself that question regularly, believe me." The silver haired man shot a long-suffering glance at his darker companion, now turned adversary for the last ten minutes.

Angeal laughed momentarily, deciding that it would be best to ignore Genesis' evident discontent - as it pretty much always had been. He had resigned himself to the struggle of keeping up with Genesis so very long ago.

"F—" he started, but was interrupted by the upbeat, harmonic chimes of his ringtone. Sighing, he pulled back from the game and fished the black contraption from his jeans pocket. A single glimpse only gave rise to another, longer sigh.

**Almighty Zee **calling.

Flipping the phone open, Angeal pressed it to his ear, demanding "What, Zack?" only to meet a cacophonous mixture of hysterical screaming and laughter.

"Angeal! Angeal! You need to get back here now! It's taking over the kitchen!"

"Zack! Zack! It's _on_ me!!" Kunsel's voice cried from the background over a continuous hum of machinery. The pitch of it was more akin to a little girl than a teenage SOLDIER.

Zack immediately rejoined the racket, at such decibels that Angeal had to hold the phone about a foot away from his ear, just to maintain that certain sense. Out of the corner of his eye he could see two intense mako-gazes staring at him in bewilderment.

"Zack. Calm down and tell me what's going on."

"It's the popcorn machine! It's turned into a _monster_!"

Angeal placed his palm to the mouthpiece and turned his attention to his friends. "I better go see what all this is about." And before either of them could reply or protest, he said back to his student, in his best attempt at a motivational voice although his evening had been irreparably destroyed, "Stay strong boys, I'll be there soon", and collected his coat; uttered a quick 'Happy Birthday' to Sephiroth and disappeared out of the door as quickly as if he was never even there.

There was a pause.

"Well," the redhead huffed, slumping around his lover's shoulders, "that's that then." He pulled away and stalked off elsewhere.

Sephiroth efficiently plucked all of the plastic pieces from the grids and placed them back into their slots before closing the whole thing up into a neat, steel grey box. Green eyes raised back up, catching on the shimmering red silk of Genesis' shirt on the sofa across the room. "What do you suggest we do now then, kitten?"

Genesis paused for a moment, swigging heavily from his second bottle like some downtown drunkard, but still retaining some aura of grace, composure and decorum. Suddenly a light flashed on in his azure eyes, and he jumped up from the sofa to hurry along the corridor into the spare room that had long since been converted into his personal 'boudoir', as Angeal had dubbed it.

There was nothing much more that one could do but sit and wait. One thing Sephiroth had learnt was to never enter that place. Ever. He slouched exasperatedly into the recliner opposite the sofa and unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. Turning to his neglected glass of cabernet, he drained it with a single gulp then rose to his feet, intending to go to the kitchen for a refill – sensing a long, trying night at the hands of his somewhat intoxicated lover ahead… but a strong hand immediately settled upon his shoulder and pressed him back down.

"Present time," Genesis whispered in his ear. A large, garishly wrapped box landed on his lap. Little yellow bears with small, black beady eyes paraded across the paper, holding forth red hearts with 'happy birthday' etched into them. Balloons, cakes and party hats were scattered across any remaining space.

The general stopped and stared, looking at the thing in utter confusion. "I thought I said not to get me anything."

"Oh, don't worry," Genesis smirked.

With a bemused look fired over his shoulder, Sephiroth slid his index finger under a taped-down flap and prised it open. He felt the hot breath of his lover trailing down his neck, almost feeling those lips press against the vein even though there was at least five inches between them. The box itself was plainly decorated, sage green with an obscure white logo printed on the lid. Upon opening it, and riffling through a sea of white tissue paper, Sephiroth uncovered a sliver of bright red leather. He held one boot up, scrutinising the other along with it. "What are these?"

Genesis leaned closer, bending effortlessly over the back of the chair. "They're boots, darling."

Afraid of offending the more unpredictable than usual redhead, Sephiroth adopted a slightly softer approach. "Kitten, it's a kind gesture and I appreciate it, but… I hardly think that these are, as you would say, my style."

"I didn't buy them for you," the commander said indignantly. He reached forward and took them from Sephiroth's grasp. "Although, I did use your credit card to buy them." His voice turned to a light-hearted giggle.

Sephiroth sighed, resting his head back on the chair and closing his eyes. "I thought I asked you not to do that again."

"You left it lying around!" Genesis sounded further away than he did only a moment ago, but Sephiroth remained still, comfortable.

"It was in my wallet—"

"Which was left lying around—"

"It was in my trousers—"

"Which were left lying around—"

"And why were they lying around, Genesis?"

There came a sound of cynical amusement, then measured footsteps.

Genesis came to a stop before him, stood tall – taller than normal – in his full-length crimson satin dressing gown. His eyes trailed up the man's long, slim figure, only accentuated by the hang and cut of the fabric; laid back smugly as experience whispered to him of what was to come. Two hands settled confidently onto the sash of the gown, not untying it just yet.

"Do you _really_ need reminding?"

"Perhaps," Sephiroth allowed his lips to curve upwards. The gesture was so tiny; to an untrained eye it would have gone completely unnoticed. But to Genesis… Those nimble fingers instantly worked away at the loose knot at the soft curve of his waist. The garment fell slack around his shoulders, sliding smoothly to the crease of his elbow; swinging open around his shapely legs, until it finally cascaded to the dark carpet.

Instead of the smooth, golden skin that he was used to seeing there was nothing but soft scarlet leather, criss-crossed with thin black laces that went up, up, up to the mid-thigh. And above those long strings trailed down from each hip, from loosely tied bows that kept a feeble excuse of an undergarment from falling from Genesis' sides. The rest of him was bare, all curves and shadows from muscle and narcissism.

"Is this more your style?" the redhead smirked. He jutted his left hip out, running the palm of his right hand down his thigh tantalisingly slowly. The answer to the question was obviously stated in the way Sephiroth's gaze followed each motion with an increasing attentiveness as the alcohol worked itself into his defenceless brain.

The heels were at least five inches; the high platform would have certainly chased away the difference in their height – something Genesis had always despised, despite getting used to the fact that he was the smallest of the three SOLDIERs.

Whilst he was busy admiring the new accessories, one of the few presents from his lover that Sephiroth actually saw as 'useful', he noticed the gentle sway to Genesis' body. Blue eyes were narrowed, lapping in the attention lavished, and yet whispering an invitation for more.

Sephiroth stood, his hands immediately finishing with his half-open shirt before starting on his trousers. The actions were quick and efficient, and even though he kept his eyes fixed on Genesis, who had taken to teasing the ribbon ties to his red underwear, his fingers did not falter once. It was far too practiced for even the most… aesthetic of all Genesis' games.

"Where?"

The redhead glanced around the room, obviously lacking the patience for the walk down the hallway to the bedroom as was so often the case, shrugging. "Wherever we find ourselves?"

The answer made perfect sense to Sephiroth. He lunged forwards to grab Genesis by the wrists and pull him back towards him. He braced himself for the flurry of the tipsy redhead, and did not allow himself to be pushed down onto the sofa. Scarlet heels and scarlet nails would rip the leather to shreds – something Sephiroth definitely did not want.

Hands threaded deeply into hair, Sephiroth tugged on cinnamon strands, unaccustomed to Genesis' new height, and missing the need to tilt that head back so he could force himself more onto the other. It seemed Genesis revelled in it though, as his lips were smiling widely and every so often he stood on the tips of his toes to try to mimic the general's more subtle techniques of domination. Before he got any ideas, Sephiroth pushed him back down to size.

There was a momentary pause as they blindly walked around the sofa, for breath as well as practicality, as Genesis broke away to bend down to retrieve a tube of lubricant from the small drawer under the table besides the sofa.

"I'd love to know everywhere you've hidden one or more of those in _my_ apartment."

"Well then, we'll just have to do a bit more exploring then, won't we?" Genesis closed the distance between them once again. Sephiroth vaguely noticed that the redhead's hand vanished behind his back and returned without the small white tube, but he didn't really care. Far too interested in where those hands had found themselves now – palming his plain black underwear off his hips.

Immediately, Sephiroth went to return the gesture, twisting the ribbons of Genesis' panties. But the redhead hastily shoved him away, staying motionless as Sephiroth supported himself against the dining table, where the discarded and packed-away Battleships and Angeal's half-empty third bottle of cider rested.

There was nothing he could do but watch, green eyes ravenous, and Genesis took care of the task himself, drawing it out for as long as possible. Sober, he'd have simply torn them off, too eager to please and pleasure himself than to worry about the overrated fact it was Sephiroth's birthday.

Again, long, thin thighs were traced by slender fingers; his expression twisting and abdominal muscles tensing as he exploited his own arousal, sharpened somewhat by the alcohol in his system. Then, each index finger wound a ribbon around itself and smirking wordlessly, Genesis pulled them outwards. Sephiroth got the feeling that anyone else would've fired some witty line as they did as such, but the commander was so eloquent and talented with words that he was also able to recognise the perfect chances for silence. It also left Sephiroth wondering just what was going on inside that pretty head.

"Reach under the table," Genesis said, leaning back against the leather sofa, leaving the undergarment, and the earlier tube of lubricant atop the headrest for all eyes to see without shame. Pretty much only Angeal stumbled in to find a trail of clothes growing progressively smaller and scantier as he neared their location.

Tearing his eyes from the last remnants of fabric, Sephiroth did as instructed. He felt a small alcove under the table, and inside it the unmistakable shape of another tube – completely unused. He pulled it out with a smirk, breaking the seal without a second thought.

Smirking again, Genesis stepped forwards, wrapping his arms casually around Sephiroth's neck. The spread of his legs was an undeniable invite. "I remember a time when you would've just stared at that in confusion and horror."

"It must please you to see how efficiently you've taught me."

Genesis chuckled, low and hot in his ear, before those plump lips turned to lavish attention to the lobe. "Why do you think I put up with you? You're the best kind of gratification."

"Gratification," Sephiroth echoed the word, amused as he slicked his fingers generously. Experience told him that when under the influence, anything less than smooth, fluid movements – a single twinge of pain – and Genesis would slip from being playful to a whining, short-tempered diva whose hangover had come hours too soon. "I would have thought your being here was to do more with my easily accessible credit card."

"Oh yes, that too."

There was little more that Sephiroth could do but tilt his head to Genesis' ministrations and enjoy the pronounced shiver of that body as he slipped his fingers inside. They'd been together long enough, or at least Genesis kept himself busy enough, that there was little – if any – resistance. The reactions were almost always the same. First the jolt, then the purr, and then Genesis would start to move whatever way he fancied.

This time, he repositioned his hips so that there was enough room between the two of them to slip his slicked right hand in and wrap around Sephiroth's engorged member. Those fingers were long and the skin was soft, so much softer than a SOLDIER's should have been, but Genesis took care of himself with a feminine devotion. They were as nimble in pleasuring as deft with swords and materia and even Sephiroth had to admit he was more pleased with the former.

It was a pure talent Genesis had. He knew exactly what to do; when and what reaction it would incur. He swapped and changed from stroking to thumbing with the slit at the head to rolling Sephiroth's testicles in the cup of his palm; the lack of rhythm left the general vulnerable to making noises and losing control before time because he didn't know when and where to brace himself.

Unlike him, Genesis never restrained his vocals either through a want to let the entire world hear of his pleasure or if it was a simple case of the man losing control of himself in yet another manner than his temper. That whole body shivered at each gentle brush of Sephiroth's fingers against his prostate or when a new finger was added; his hips bucked forwards, eliciting a gasp or two if he was lucky as the friction was sure to drive them slowly insane.

Hot lips pressed against the prominent vein in the general's neck, sucking in heavy breaths when not tasting the slight salty sheen of the flesh. "Stop now," Genesis whined in a desperate whisper.

Sephiroth smirked; not slowing the pace of his wrist. "Patience, Rhapsodos," he hushed.

"Patience?!" It was incredulous, but caught in Genesis' throat. "I just want you to fuck me. Patience is for foreplay. We're past that."

Chuckling, Sephiroth slid his fingers out cleanly. "I'll remember that for later." His hands transferred to clasp firmly to Genesis' firm buttocks and pick him up. The redhead assisted as best he could, raising his legs to wrap around Sephiroth's lean waist but careful not the scratch the table with his heels. His hand remained gripping the base of Sephiroth's cock, positioning it correctly before snaking back up and around the man's neck.

"Happy birthday, moonbeam," Genesis murmured with a smile, pressing his lips to Sephiroth's as he lowered himself down. He was always the one in control when it came to what Sephiroth's inner prude would consider 'unorthodox' positions, as the redhead obviously not only had a far greater grasp of the boundary lines between pleasure, pain and injury but also more experience.

The pace he set was surprisingly calm, but deep. It was almost sensual, just sounds of themselves and defined muscles rippling under pale flesh and rubbing against each other until Genesis reached over Sephiroth's shoulder to retrieve one of the discarded bottles. Casually, he drank from it between his moans. Amazingly, he managed not to choke.

When the redhead hit a new pitch; the empty bottle slipped from steadily numbing fingers, Sephiroth reaffirmed his grip on Genesis' hips and flipped their positions fluidly. Instead of the gasp he had expected at the contact of his back and the table, the general found that the one noise Genesis released was a frustrated grunt. Blue eyes flashed open and glared straight through him.

Sephiroth continued his smooth motions between his lover's spread legs, frowning. "What now?"

"Bedroom."

The general laughed, shaking his head and sending silver hair cascading everywhere. Genesis immediately twisted his fingers into it. "Not now, little fox. Maybe round two," Sephiroth panted and the sound shortened into a gasp as nimble fingers tugged none-too-gently on his hair. But Genesis didn't push the matter further, perhaps content with the promise of more; rested his head back against the table and put all of his thought into the rhythm dictated to him for hips and breathing.

Sephiroth let his hands wander, sliding down, rather than upwards, to trail the smooth, leather of the boots. He untied the legs from around his waist and pushed them back against Genesis, silently grateful as ever of the man's extreme flexibility. The scarlet highlighted the golden tint of Genesis' body in the white overhead lights, a permanent aesthetic dye from a childhood spent in the sun. Teeth gleamed white against rose pink lips, and eyelids dusted with black eye shadow, Genesis was a creature of contrasts; drawn to his polar opposite and held fast by an unceasing attraction.

Though many (mainly Angeal) stated that they couldn't understand how the two put up with each other, Sephiroth viewed Genesis as his complement. He was something so much richer, so vibrant that it made Sephiroth feel more alive. Around Genesis he was more personable and allowed his own personality, which had shied away inside himself for too long, to shine.

It was only when his eyes began to ache from the lack of sufficient moisture that Sephiroth noticed that he was staring. He blinked and kept his eyes shut, lowering himself down over Genesis to kiss and bite at the man's slim neck. He felt Genesis' hand sneak back between them, curling around his own member to roughly jerk himself off to every profound thrust.

Neither could pinpoint out the exact moment when the tempo turned frenetic: too lost in sensation and sensory overload to really care. In the final leg of the run, Sephiroth finally started to catch up with Genesis in terms of his vocal volume. However, it would always be a contest that the commander won, whether he did it intentionally or not.

And then, Genesis' muscles contracted in on each other; his hips jerked up and a new feeling of warmth spread across Sephiroth's stomach. A smirk graced thin pale lips as he followed suit only moments later. He grabbed a hold of Genesis' new boots, using them to effectively anchor himself down as the convulsions set in.

"So," Sephiroth exhaled heavily and pulled out of Genesis' body, "just how much did that cost me?"

A ghost of a smile flashed across the other's features and he stretched out like a content feline. Only when he was finish did he reopen his eyes. "1700gil. Worth every penny, if you ask me."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and sighed. It was typical of Genesis to treat money fleetingly.

"Now, you promised me a second round—"

The door banged open and the couple's sated gazes shot viciously in that direction. It was only Angeal who stood in the doorway, panting from a lack of breath and red in the face. He held a large paper bag filled to the brim with steaming popcorn, glistening in the light from syrup. Upon seeing their intimate position on the dining table, the SOLDIER's expression drooped visibly.

"I missed the show?"


End file.
